Here is one for my Cousins from across 'The Pond' (four feet per line with rhyming A, B, C, D, between each stanza):
POUGHKEEPSIE
Gliding towards that bend of death,
Unknown to those who are onboard,
The Poughkeepsie train to New York,
Gently clatters that Dark Sunday.
Very soon four shall have no breath,
As the Metro North falls starboard,
Pushed on a bend and not a fork,
The cause of this crash who will say?
Not Donna lying there in death,
Nor Kissok Ahn shall sound the chord,
Neither James are able to talk,
Because they are no more this day.
Roger Bennett
December, 2013
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